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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615943">Share</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque'>pauraque</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking, F/F, F/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Possessive Behavior, Post-Episode: s03e06 Scavengers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:15:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Book has noticed that a lot of things about Michael's old life are "complicated". And that certainly includes one Philippa Georgiou.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cleveland "Book" Booker/Michael Burnham, Cleveland "Book" Booker/Michael Burnham/Mirror Philippa Georgiou, Michael Burnham/Mirror Philippa Georgiou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Black Is Beautiful 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Share</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts">LittleRaven</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to sdk for beta reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Long after shuttle bay operations are shut down for the night, Book and Michael sit on the floor, staring out at the stars, just inside the forcefield that keeps them and his ship and everything else in the bay from being blown out into space. Her head's on his shoulder, his arm is around her waist... It's nice. One of those peaceful moments you get sometimes when you're lucky, when nobody's trying to kill you or steal your stuff for a few minutes.</p><p>Those moments never last long, of course.</p><p>Michael's body tenses against him; she half-turns, her head cocked like she's heard something.</p><p>"What's up?"</p><p>"Someone's here," she whispers.</p><p>In one smooth motion, she rises and turns round to peer into the shuttle bay, eyes narrowed. In a second he's at her side, braced, ready for anything—well, neither of them's armed (damn Starfleet regulations) but he's as ready as he can be. And Michael's right, there is someone. Book sees it too, a flicker of a figure that briefly crosses the lights of the consoles in the otherwise darkened and deserted back of the bay.</p><p>He's just about to reach for his transporter and get them safely onto his ship, but before he gets the chance to, Michael's body relaxes.</p><p>She cautiously straightens up and then calls out in a tone of both great fatigue and great patience: "...Philippa...?"</p><p>And after a brief, guilty pause, none other than Philippa Georgiou steps out into the light, flinching slightly at it. Not for the first time, Book wonders if Michael isn't just a teensy bit of an empath herself.</p><p>"A little jumpy, aren't we?" Georgiou asks, an edge in her voice that hovers somewhere between taunting and teasing.</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Michael lets her breath all the way out. "Care to explain why you're lurking around the shuttle bay in the middle of the night?"</p><p>"I wasn't <em>lurking</em>. I was looking for you. You weren't in your quarters."</p><p>Michael's arms fall loosely, tiredly at her sides. "Please tell me you didn't scare Tilly."</p><p>A smile begins to glint in Georgiou's eyes as she opens her mouth to speak, but Michael shakes her head, stopping her.</p><p>"Nope, nope, forget I asked. So, you were looking for me. What do you need?" Michael's face and voice soften a little, taking on a certain weight of concern as she asks, "Are you doing okay?"</p><p>"I'm <em>fine</em>," Georgiou snaps—the bristle of a person who's far from fine if ever Book's heard one. "I was just wondering what you were doing here... so late at night." She rakes her gaze over Book, haughtily appraising.</p><p>"Hang on," Book says, lifting his hands diplomatically. "I thought we were all friends now. You did help save my life, after all. And now you're spying on us?"</p><p>Georgiou snorts, crossing her arms defensively. "If I <em>had</em> been spying on you, you never would have known it."</p><p>"So, you wanted to be caught?" Michael concludes.</p><p>Georgiou doesn't answer, glancing aside with a little <i>hmph</i>.</p><p>Book takes a step towards her, slow and unthreatening. "Look. I appreciate everything you've done for me. I don't have anything against you. Can we just talk this out—whatever this is? You keep turning up like this, every time Michael and I are together, hanging about and watching us. You can't think we haven't noticed."</p><p>"You and Michael are <em>always</em> together," Georgiou retorts. Not as sharply as she might have done; Book wonders if he hears a muffled note of self-conscious vulnerability—or whatever passes for vulnerability with her.</p><p>"Is that a problem?" he asks quietly.</p><p>"It does make it difficult to talk to her when I want to." Though speaking to him, Georgiou is looking pointedly at Michael. "And she only talks to me anymore when <em>you</em> need help. So, unless I arrange to have you stranded somewhere life-threatening..."</p><p>"Philippa, I—" Michael pauses, visibly centres herself, and then continues more gently, squinting at her. "Philippa. I might really regret asking this, but... Would you like to come inside and have a drink? If Book doesn't mind me inviting guests onto his ship, that is."</p><p>Michael looks to him, slightly pleading. He gets the sense that she has a good reason for wanting to reach out to Georgiou. To some degree, he can relate; he's often been accused of having an undeserved soft spot for terrible creatures.</p><p>"Of course I don't mind," he says cordially. "In fact, I've got some Orion cider stashed away for a special occasion. I'd be happy to share."</p><p>Georgiou has the wary look of someone who is rarely invited anywhere. Calculating, too, like she's deciding how to turn an invitation for drinks to her advantage. For someone so secretive, it's surprising how easy it is to read her eyes, almost as easy as reading an animal.</p><p>"Lead on," she says at last.</p>
<hr/><p>"Computer, reduce ambient illumination by fifteen percent," Michael orders as soon as the three of them pop on board.</p><p>Book throws her a questioning glance as the light dims around them. "Mood lighting?"</p><p>She doesn't answer, but Georgiou's eyes are piercing her like daggers. "I never asked to be coddled," she hisses.</p><p>"I'm just trying to make it more comfortable for you," Michael says under her breath through a strained, patient smile. "You don't have to bite my head off."</p><p>Book chooses not to ask what that means. Instead he heads into the bedroom alcove to turn up the cider. If he digs into every little thing between these two, he suspects he might be digging for a long time.</p><p>"Sorry, I'm not exactly set up for entertaining," he says, popping back up with the cider and glasses, and nodding towards the bed. "I'm afraid it's either here or at the consoles, in terms of seating arrangements."</p><p>With accustomed agility, Michael crawls up to the head of the bed and sits tailor-fashion. Grudge is on the other pillow, glancing round in affronted startlement at the disturbance. Michael tries to give her a stroke, but the queen evades her hand, slips down to the floor and stalks away, pointedly refusing to look at Georgiou—an unwelcome stranger.</p><p>Seeming a little affronted herself, Georgiou watches Grudge's departure with a slight curl of her lip. "You keep that <em>thing</em> on board your ship?" she asks. "Where I'm from, we consider creatures like that to be—"</p><p>She stops. Michael is shaking her head rapidly, her wide eyes and pressed-together lips silently screaming <em>don't</em>.</p><p>"We don't keep pets," Georgiou concludes curtly. "Not animals, anyway."</p><p>"That's a shame," Book says mildly, taking note of exactly how long the lead is that Michael seems to have Georgiou on. "I'd be miserable having only people to talk to all day." He sits down on the side of the bed and cracks open the bottle of cider. "Where <em>are</em> you from, anyway?"</p><p>After a moment's hesitation, Georgiou sits down on the other side of the bed, facing away from him, one leg crossed over the other. "Another universe," she says breezily.</p><p>He pours a finger of the acid-green cider—it's strong stuff—and passes the glass to Michael. "Oh? And how did you end up in our little corner of the multiverse?"</p><p>Georgiou looks over her shoulder to share a look with Michael, their mirrored expressions seeming to ask one another whether they've got their stories straight.</p><p>"Don't tell me," Book says, pouring another glass. "It's complicated?"</p><p>That brings Michael's eyes sharply back to his. Because that's the thing she always says, the wall he always hits up against whenever he asks anything about Michael's past, no matter how gently or how obliquely. It's always "complicated". He meets her gaze calmly, not pretending that he hasn't needled her.</p><p>"<em>She</em> dragged me here," Georgiou says. "Against my will. So now you know who to blame."</p><p>Book leans over the bed to offer Georgiou her drink. "Or who to thank," he suggests.</p><p>Georgiou looks at it dubiously, as if it might be poison. She takes it anyway.</p><p>"Of course, she's conveniently leaving out the part where I also saved her life," says Michael pointedly.</p><p>Georgiou rolls her eyes. "For deeply neurotic reasons of her own," she adds. She takes a sip—only after seeing Michael do so first, Book notices.</p><p>"Did she also drag you to the future against your will?" he asks, pouring a drink for himself.</p><p>Instead of answering, Georgiou squares her shoulders in a way that reminds Book of a cat ruffling her fur.</p><p>"Nope," Michael answers for her, holding up her glass in toast with a smile of muted triumph. "She decided to do that all on her own."</p><p>"The 23rd century is very boring in this universe," Georgiou explains, bringing her knee up on the bed so she can lean over towards Book confidentially. "All rigid protocols and tiresome ethical quandaries." Her free hand gives a dismissive wave. "I was hoping the future would be more interesting."</p><p>The cider runs down Book's throat with a satisfying burn. "Have we measured up to your expectations so far?"</p><p>"I will admit, your century is less... tame," Georgiou concedes, looking directly at Michael.</p><p>Peering down at her drink as she swirls it one-handed, Michael breathes out abruptly through her nose. "I think that's fair to say."</p><p>"That could yet change," Book points out. "At least if Michael has anything to do with it."</p><p>Michael doesn't move, but her eyebrows perk and her eyes peek up at him with a wry, slightly tart smile. He returns it warmly.</p><p>Georgiou shakes her head. "I don't understand why she wants to make this century more like the one we just left." Holding her drink tightly in one small, strong hand, she examines Michael keenly, like a tricorder scanning every fluctuation in a quantum field. "She was never meant to be tame, any more than I was."</p><p>Michael meets her gaze levelly. When they look at each other like that, Book can feel what's between them like an elastic band, tight with potential energy. A tension that's kept them following each other across universes, across centuries. He just doesn't entirely know where it comes from yet.</p><p>"How long have you two known each other?" he ventures.</p><p>Georgiou's eyes dart towards him dourly. "Your boyfriend asks a lot of questions," she says before taking a drink.</p><p>"I've noticed that." Michael's eyebrow arches as she drinks too.</p><p>Book shrugs. "I'm a naturally curious person."</p><p>Georgiou keeps her tone light, yet fixes him with a challenging, regal stare that would make lesser hearts quake as she asks: "What do you want to know?"</p><p>If he's honest, he wants to know many things. But he suspects it's going to be difficult to get any straight answers. He brings both legs up on the bed so he can face her dead on. "You risked your own life to help Michael rescue me," he says. "Why did you do it? Were you afraid she'd be in danger? Or do you just share her saviour complex?"</p><p>Georgiou cocks her head sarcastically, as if judging him for wasting his question on something so foolish. "What do <em>you</em> think?"</p><p>"Hard to say," he admits. "You're obviously very protective of Michael... and quite sceptical of me, like you're not convinced I'm good enough for her. Sometimes I'm not sure if you're acting like an ex-lover, or like her mum."</p><p>Michael, who has been watching their back-and-forth in silence, opens her mouth and then decidedly shuts it again. Fumbles her glass slightly, then hurriedly drains it.</p><p>"Don't be silly," Georgiou replies smoothly—a bit too smoothly, really. "Of course we were lovers. Didn't you tell him that?" She flicks her gaze to Michael.</p><p>"Nope," says Book, deliberately neutral.</p><p>"Normally..." Michael clears her throat and coughs a little, patting her chest. "Mm. Uh, normally, I would not mind talking about... past relationships," she says, picking over her words carefully, like walking on slippery stones in a stream. "But some of mine are extremely <em>difficult</em> to explain." On the word <i>difficult</i> she shoots Georgiou an acidic smile.</p><p>"Her last boyfriend wasn't quite who he said he was," Georgiou explains to Book, cheerfully and willfully dodging Michael's point. "Or rather, he was quite a bit <em>more</em> than he said he was. He turned out to be... two people in one body, was it? I never quite figured out what was going on with that one."</p><p>"Well, you know something, Philippa?" Michael says, leaning back against the headboard with a tight, uncomfortable shrug that she releases into a sigh of surrender, holding her empty glass in the gap between her criss-crossed legs. "That makes two of us."</p><p>"Another complicated bit, I reckon," Book says quietly.</p><p>Michael's smiling at him, her head tilted back at an angle and resting on the wood, but he can see the shadow of old hurt in her eyes. "You could say that."</p><p>Book draws a long breath and leans forward, rolling his near-empty glass between his palms. He gathers himself and then says, "I don't expect you to explain everything to me. Not if it means digging up old bones that are best left buried. But I do want to tell you... Being on this ship, seeing you together with your people..." With a nod, he acknowledges Georgiou, who is watching him closely. "...I've come to understand something. I used to think I could be with just the Michael Burnham I've come to know over this last year—pretend you just dropped out of the sky without a past. But that's impossible, isn't it? I want to know you—<em>all</em> of you. Even the complicated bits."</p><p>He holds Michael's gaze as her smile turns to something less painful and something more like unexpected joy hitting right in the heart.</p><p>"He's very direct," Georgiou comments.</p><p>"Yes," Michael says, her eyes glossing over with a glistening sheen. "Not everybody deceives people."</p><p>Georgiou lets out a huff of indignation. "And here I was assuming he was the one who taught you not to be so <em>moral</em>."</p><p>"Well, not to brag, but I did betray her the first day we met," Book points out, sliding a half-smile in Michael's direction. "Did you not tell her that?"</p><p>Michael laughs, wiping a tear away with the back of her wrist. "You know, somehow? That did not come up."</p><p>"It should have," Georgiou says in a tone of mild rebuke. "If I'd known he did that, I would have had far more respect for him."</p><p>Book looks to her with surprise. "Hm? That right? I've been under the impression you didn't respect anybody." He sets his glass aside and scoots up onto the bed beside Michael, stretching out his legs.</p><p>"Not true," Georgiou objects. "It's only that so few people are worthy of it."</p><p>"And Michael's one of the few who's made the cut," he speculates, rubbing her thigh companionably. </p><p>Michael breathes another small, secretive laugh, placing her hand over his, warm and lean. "I don't know about that."</p><p>From the other side of the bed, Georgiou skewers Michael with a piercing look, more serious than any that Book's ever seen her wear. "What I feel towards Michael," she says crisply, "goes beyond the level of respect."</p><p>Michael tilts her head in slight puzzlement, her brows knit. "Thank you... I think?"</p><p>"I feel the same way," Book says casually. "If you mean you love her, that is."</p><p>Michael's hand tenses on his, and she looks to him, startled. He's never said that before.</p><p>Georgiou doesn't answer; instead she glances away and finishes off her drink. It strikes him again how like a cat she is—a natural predator, evolved to kill, and keenly aware of her own superiority. Yet it's obvious how much she needs her person, even as she pretends to walk by herself.</p><p>Book lets the silence sit. It's quieter than he's used to; the bulkheads of his own ship muffle the hum of the <i>Discovery</i>'s warp core to nearly nothing. You almost wouldn't know they were on a ship in flight at all. He can sense the gears turning in Michael's head, and he knows she'll say something if he just waits long enough. Georgiou doesn't look, and stays quiet too. Perhaps she knows the same thing.</p><p>At last, it comes out: "I've been having a hard time lately," Michael admits slowly, her voice thick. She peers down into her empty glass, turning it idly with one hand. "I've been feeling torn between my future... and my past."</p><p>She looks longingly at Georgiou—only a metre or so away, but in that moment it feels like there are light-years between them. Georgiou doesn't turn round, but Book sees her throat move in a swallow.</p><p>"Maybe it's a false dichotomy," Book says soberly. "Maybe you don't have to choose."</p><p>Michael quirks an eyebrow at him, uncertain. "What are you saying?"</p><p>"I mean... I'm being literal, here. You've got two people in your life who love you, and I'm saying you don't have to choose. Sorry if it sounded more abstract than that."</p><p>Georgiou turns to them then, slowly, looking from one to the other. "I am not used to sharing what is mine," she states.</p><p>Michael drops her chin down, pinning Georgiou with one of those cautioning looks. "Don't sell yourself short. You've proven yourself more than capable of adapting to unfamiliar circumstances."</p><p>"Only when <em>you</em> drag me along," Georgiou grumbles.</p><p>"Kicking and screaming," Michael confirms softly, a hint of a smile playing about her lips.</p><p>"Personally, I don't mind sharing at all," Book puts in, meaning it. "But that's me."</p><p>Georgiou isn't quite smiling, but there is a certain glint in her eyes. "I had a feeling this century would be an improvement," she says.</p><p>Biting her lip, Michael peers at Book sidelong. "Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"</p><p>"No," Book admits. "But being around you, I've grown used to that."</p><p>"The real question," Georgiou says, tossing back her hair, "is whether he can keep up with me. Surely he doesn't please you the way I can?"</p><p>Michael rubs her forehead with a long-suffering smile. "Philippa..." she begins warningly.</p><p>"Oh, I don't know about that. I think I manage." Book winks at Michael. He feels the heat of her blush in her hand on his, in her shoulder leaning against him.</p><p>"Do you, now? I'd like to see you prove it sometime," Georgiou says, now back in fine form, brazenly needling.</p><p>Book finds himself grinning uncontrollably. Damned if Georgiou's sheer cheek isn't starting to grow on him. She's watching his reaction carefully, her eyes gleaming. She's testing him, and he knows that. He expects she'll be testing him a lot if they go through with this.</p><p>"I'd enjoy that," he says easily, holding her gaze the way you have to stare straight at a Kwejian sabre-tooth to earn her respect. "In fact," he says, taking Michael's empty glass out of her lap and setting it aside, "I've got some time free right now if you haven't anywhere else to be."</p><p>A slow smile creeps across Georgiou's face, impressed and delighted that he's called her bluff.</p><p>"No," she says. "I don't."</p><p>"Uh," Michael says. "You two do realize I'm <em>right here</em>, right?"</p><p>"Of course," he says. "What do you think, Michael? Care to make a wager? I won't be offended if you bet on her."</p><p>Michael huffs out a speechless laugh, eyes wide in surprise—delight? Book glances at the bottle, still full up to the neck. None of them's had enough to turn this into a big regrettable mess—at least, not for that reason.</p><p>"Is this all right with you?" he asks softly, into her ear.</p><p>"She would let you know if it wasn't," Georgiou points out. "Michael doesn't do <em>anything</em> she doesn't want to do."</p><p>"I've noticed that about her too. Nonetheless, I consider it polite to ask. Just to be sure."</p><p>Michael squints up at him, biting her lower lip in a curious smile. He can feel the heat of her, feel the rapid rhythm of her heart. "What, exactly, am I agreeing to? Just to be sure."</p><p>"Just what she asked," Book says. "She wants to see how I please you. I want to see how she pleases you, too."</p><p>"I believe I specified seeing who pleases her <em>better</em>," Georgiou corrects him.</p><p>Book shrugs, smiling at her. "If you insist on making it a competition. I feel confident."</p><p>Michael breathes a laugh. Her hand trembles just the slightest bit as she raises it up to undo the collar of her uniform. "Well," she says evenly, "if I've learned anything at all from living in this century... It's that you don't pass up opportunities."</p><p>"They may never knock again," Book finishes the old courier's proverb, sliding his palm along the side of her neck, gently pushing her braids aside so he can kiss her there.</p><p>"Funny," chimes in Georgiou, a hungry smile glittering in her eyes as she prowls up by Michael's other side, sliding her hand up her inner thigh. "Where I'm from, we say exactly the same thing."</p>
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